Good morning, y’all. If you are like most of the Bulldawg nation you are walking and talking slowly this week. Whether the lethargy is due to the destruction of brain cells by the viewing of the debacle in Jacksonville, or the alcohol imbibed to make the images of the game go away, either way, the damage to the frontal cortex has been done.
I believe it was on Stetson Bennett’s interception that I jumped from my Barcalounger screaming “my eyes, my eyes”, causing my dear wife Mulva to think I had been struck blind like Paul on the road to Damascus. I guess she figured I was long over due for some sort of Divine Intervention, and being struck blind in the middle of a game was just as good as any other time. Would that it were true.
Instead, the Dear Lord kept me sighted for the entire train wreck, er, game. I do not use the term train wreck lightly. Normally I can find a bright spot to focus on during a defeat and dwell on that aspect until the next week. There was nothing from the WLOCP that could be taken forward as a positive to give hope that the heatherns from Missouri will not stomp a giant mud hole in our team this week in Columbia. Nothing, except, wait, for it… The game has been postponed do to the Corona. Turns out the “you can’t make me wear a maskers” from Missouri can’t field a team this Saturday.
Because it’s “about the kids” and it ain’t about the money, the game will likely be rescheduled for December 19th, at night. So, Moms and Dads expecting their little ones home for Christmas won’t have that one week of buffer from possible exposure that they did have. I guess little Johnny will just fly back to Athens and then be allowed to disperse whatever he picked up in Missouri to his friends and families. Remember, “it’s about the kids”.
After hours of meditation on the subject in my Barcalounger, I have come to the conclusion that 2020 is just cursed. We started the season with an all world Quarterback that was going to carry us to the national championship. He opted out of the season when faced with the reality of people sweating and spitting and breathing on him on a regular basis. Seems like he could figure the odds. I imagine he’s been watching the season unfold and thinking, “there but for the grace of Dr. Fauci, go I”.
I don’t have an answer for all of this. No one wants college football to be played, specifically UGA, more than I do. But, what if college athletics really is supposed to be “about the kids”? What if the concern about their2% chance of turning pro, has clouded the athlete’s reality of being infected with a deadly disease? What if the spread to family and friends doesn’t even get calculated? What if the long term effects to lungs or the brain aren’t even a consideration?
I would think that rational adults would step in and say “enough is enough” and bag the season. Doesn’t look like there are any rational adults, though. The adults are being paid multi-million dollar salaries to get their athletes to go “once more unto the breach”. So I imagine we’ll limp along to the end of the season picking up our wounded and looking for “the next man up”.
